


Good for Some

by athoroughlybakedpotato (acommontater)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, No actual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 22:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10259588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acommontater/pseuds/athoroughlybakedpotato
Summary: aka Fives Time Yuuri wanted to hit something and One Time someone else did for him





	

**Author's Note:**

> See endnotes for warnings if you're leery.

One

  
Mari is fifteen and the coolest person in the entire world according to her eight-nearly-nine year old brother. (Not that Yuuri would ever admit it to her face. How embarrassing.) He’s helping their mom put towels away when he catches her out back, wiping tears off her face. He sets the stack of towels down clumsily and runs over to her, stopping just short of flinging his arms around her middle.

“Mari, what’s wrong?” She looks almost startled at the alarm on his face.

“Nothing, I’m fine, little brother.” He looks at her and frowns.

“You’re crying.”

“Ah. It’s… the boy I went on a few dates with doesn’t want to anymore. That’s all.”

She reaches out and ruffles his already rumpled hair affectionately.

“He made you cry.” Yuuri says stubbornly, clenching his little fists. (Mari would have nearly laughed at the sight of her tiny baby brother ready to get into a fight for her honor if she hadn’t been so touched.) Mari huffs a little, wiping off the last of the tears from her cheeks and running a finger under her eyes to make sure her mascara hasn’t run.

“I’ll be okay, Yuuri. Thanks.”

Yuuri nods solemnly, dithering for a moment before rushing forward and giving her a quick hug and the dashing back to pick up the pile of towels he’d left by the door.

 

Two

  
Yuuri is fourteen and glaring at his computer screen. Well, the family computer that he uses mostly. The blog post titled Is Viktor Nikiforov The Most Overrated Athlete Ever? Yes. in ugly blue font reflects in his glasses. Yuuri reads the words mockingly and glares. If he could reach through the internet and slug someone in the jaw, he would do it. How dare they have such wrong and awful and terrible opinions that are just wrong and…

He runs laps around a few blocks instead, imagining with every pounding step he took he was stepping on the face of whoever had the audacity to write such utter garbage.

 

Three

  
Phichit is seventeen and baby-faced, a struggle that Yuuri knows well. (His freshman year he’d been asked if he was a member of the visiting junior high and the resulting mortification had been all around.) Yuuri would like to say that as the older skater/roommate he’d taken Phichit under his wing and helped him along, but the truth is much more that Phichit decided that they were going to be best friends and then, somehow, they were. Yuuri does endeavor to be the more sensible of the pair- just because you _can_ go to a Walmart at three in the morning in America does not mean that they _should_ \- and Phichit helps Yuuri out of his shell.

“You’re so cold to people.” he tells Yuuri, with a little spin on the ice. “I know you’re charming and secretly just a big skating nerd but you could really try.”

(Why, I’ll only be here a few years, Yuuri wants to say, but doesn’t.)

For Phichit’s eighteenth birthday he convinces Yuuri to come to his party. How he’s amassed enough friends to have a party this big in the few months he’d been there Yuuri doesn’t know. This results in them getting invitations to another party a few weeks later, on a lull in the middle of training.

-

Yuuri lost track of Phichit a little while ago and he’s had a couple of drinks since. He finds Phichit out in the backyard, a few of the frat guys crowded around him. Yuuri opens his mouth to yell out but stops. Phichit is unusually stiff and unsmiling at whatever the other guys are saying. Yuuri hurries over and touches Phichit’s elbow. Phichit turns to him with a bright and unusually relived smile once he sees who it is.

“Friend of yours, ladyboy?” one of the guys says, with a grin that Yuuri doesn’t think is particularly friendly.

Yuuri glances at Phichit, who’s gone rigid again, and doesn’t understand. He knows that Phichit had tried some new lipgloss and a pair of pants that were so tight he didn’t know how Phichit had gotten them on at all, but he doesn’t think that Phichit looks womanly.

“We’re leaving, Yuuri.” Phichit says, grabbing his elbow and stalking away.

The guys behind them whoop and catcall as they walk away and Yuuri feels like he’s missed something important.

(He works up the nerve to ask Phichit about it a couple days later, when neither of them are drunk or running on fumes after practice. Phichit explains haltingly, English and his own emotions making it more difficult than necessary, and the hurt and weariness in his voice makes Yuuri want to put his fist through those guys faces if he ever sees them again.)

 

Four

  
When Mari calls to tell him about Vicchan- he was old and only getting slower, this wasn't unexpected, just terribly timed- Yuuri feels like he’s moving in slow motion. He’d just skated a great short program in the Grand Prix Final and now… He quietly thanks her for letting him know, assures her that there’s nothing more that either of them can do right now, that he’ll go find Celestino, and hangs up before curling up on his bed.

He stares blankly at the wall for a moment, numb. The numbness fades with a rush of anger- this was the biggest day of his career so far, the most important event yet and it’s almost like punishment for daring to have a little hubris. He wants to take a swing at something he can’t define and could never hit anyway for taking Vicchan away. (maybe, a tiny voice whispers, this is how balance is kept. A proportional loss for each of his gains.) The tears overwhelm him a moment later and he curls around his pillow to try and muffle the sound of his sobs. He’s going to call room service and order the worst thing on the menu, damn his diet plan.

 

Five

  
Viktor cries in Barcelona and it almost makes Yuuri want to slap himself. He curls his hands on his knees instead, because he’s right. He has to be right. He can’t take Viktor away from the world like this. He loves him too much for that.

 

+One

They were celebrating the end of the season, bittersweet in it’s own way, out on the town for the evening. The club they were currently in is playing an upbeat tune that Yuuri can’t understand, but has a good time dancing too anyway. The members of team Russia seemed to be having a good time and Yuuri got coaxed into dancing after a couple of drinks and Viktor and Mila pouting. It’s hot on the dancefloor and he loses track of people that he knows.

Normally panic would begin to set in, but the relaxing effect of the drinks and the knowledge that he could see around the entire room if he bothered to try offset it. He catches Georgi’s eye and motions that he’s stepping outside for some fresh air and Georgi waves.

The freezing air outside is like a welcome slap in the face and a relief after the humidity and heat of the club. Yuri sighs and leans against the wall, catching his breath and letting the relative quiet give his ears a break.

“Hey.” He opens his eyes and sees a man standing near him.

“Oh, hi.” Yuuri straightens up and moves to go back inside. A hand lands on the wall in front of his face. The man leans forward, blocking Yuuri’s path. A part of Yuuri’s brain registers that the man is much taller than him. He grins at Yuuri.

“What’s the hurry, pretty?” Yuuri glares at him.

“Please move.”

The man reaches out to tap Yuuri’s chin.

“Mouthy, huh, pretty? A pretty mouth too.” Yuuri slaps his hand away, opening his mouth to yell at the stranger when another voice interrupts.

“Hey, asshole, he’s not interested, now fuck off.” The man turns and snorts out a laugh.

Yuuri sees Mila looking coolly at the stranger, fists tight.

“And just what are you going to do about it little lady?”

Mila sighs.

“I’m telling you to fuck off now, this is your last warning.”

The man rolls his eyes and waves her off with a hand, making to turn back towards Yuuri. There’s a sickening crack and the man hits the sidewalk with a heavy thump. Yuuri looks up from the now-prone form on the ground to Mila, shaking out her hand as she glares at the downed man.

“Fucking garbage.” she says, spitting at the man’s body, adding something distinctly unkind in Russian. She looks up at Yuuri. “Sometimes, you have to be more direct to get it through their thick skulls. Let’s get back in, Viktor was worried when you disappeared.”

Yuuri follows her quietly, catching her elbow just before the door.

“Thank you.” he says quietly. She grins at him, her face finally softening.

“Of course, Ri’ka, you’re ours now, yes? You owe me a dance now.” He returns her smile and they go back in towards the thumping bass and his fiance.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings, if needed: mention of transphobia, moment of a guy being way too pushy when hitting on Yuuri


End file.
